The Spitting Contest
by NateSean
Summary: What happens when the Atlantis team has a little too much time on their hands?


Spitting contest  
  
A/n: I'll come out with something as suspenseful and exciting as Where Moonlight Falls, eventually. Right now, my Atlantis fics will have to have some kind of humorous edge.  
  
It was late one night. Doctor Rodney McKay was busy cataloguing the permutations of the Pegasus Gate Network. While everyone else was bustling about, getting things done, or getting ready for bed Major John Sheppard and Lieutenant Aiden Ford leaned against the rail post and gazed out at the vast alien ocean.  
  
"It's so unusually warm out here," Aiden pointed out. "You'd think it'd be a tad chillier what with the breeze off of the ocean."  
  
"Well, according to Rodney this planet's sun has a larger energy output than our home sun." John answered. "Or something like that. Personally I just wish there was a nice sandy beach to go to on weekends."  
  
"Hmm. I used to go to this nice little beach in California every year. Sea air as far as the eye can see and plenty of nice young ladies waiting for a strong and handsome man to take them away for the evening."  
  
"Haven't been to a beach since you were sixteen have you?"  
  
"No."  
  
John snickered. He gazed downwards at the empty metal streets below. It was so tempting he couldn't fight the urge. John hocked up a large loogie, and let it drop. It splattered against a light fixture of some kind.  
  
"Pfft," Aiden scoffed. "I can do better than that."  
  
"Oh really? Care to make a wager."  
  
"You got it."  
  
"What are you two doing out here?"  
  
John and Aiden looked up and saw Teyla come out onto the balcony. Telya had been with them for only a few weeks, but she was always a welcome sight.  
  
"Oh, the lieutenant," John said, with a snide voice. "Believes he can hock a better loogie than I can."  
  
"Loogie?" Teyla was unfamiliar with the term.  
  
"Yeah. You hock back some phlegm, pick a target, and then let it go." Aiden explained. "Men do it all the time back on Earth. And I'm willing to bet that nice little seaside home Major Sheppard has picked out for himself."  
  
"Whoa." John threw up his hands. "If you're gonna up the ante like that, then I want your portable DVD player, and your first season South Park DVD."  
  
"You're on."  
  
"May I join in?" Teyla asked, confident that she could spit better than any man.  
  
Aiden and John were a little shocked. Although Teyla was clearly unlike any woman they encountered on Earth, it was still a bit unusual to find one who was enticed by contests of pure testosterone.  
  
"Well, you have to bet something," John explained. "But I promise you, none of you will beat me."  
  
"We'll soon see about that," Teyla said, grinning mischievously. "If I win, John has to carry me through the stargate when we return from our next mission."  
  
The sound of the ocean breaking against the edge of the city was not louder than Aiden's laughter echoing throughout Atlantis. John's face had turned red, but he decided to turn this to his advantage.  
  
"Fine. But if I win, you have to spend the night watching South Park with me."  
  
In the midst of the commotion, Rodney left his work to see what was going on out there.  
  
"What are you people up to?" He asked, suspiciously.  
  
"Oh, doctor McKay," John said, looking up. "We're just having a little wager to see who can hock the biggest loogie off the platform."  
  
"Jeez," Rodney made a face. "That is so unbelievably childish."  
  
"Exactly," Aiden replied in mock agreement. "Especially since I'm the best one here."  
  
"I wouldn't say that."  
  
"Really?"  
  
Rodney bristled at the idea.  
  
"Of course not. I could beat out any of you in a spitting contest any day of the week."  
  
"How about right now?" John asked.  
  
"What...well...why not later in the week?"  
  
"You'd be better off doing it now. After all, you're going up against two American's, and a native of the Pegasus Galaxy. I'd be ashamed to go back to Canada and tell my family and friends that I backed out of a challenge to enter a spitting contest."  
  
"Fine. Here are my terms. I win and you three do my permutations for the next month."  
  
The others set forth their terms, though Rodney had very little to offer in the way of betting material. Nevertheless, they were ready to begin. They took their positions at the rail.  
  
"Rodney, you go first," John offered. "Pick a target and shoot."  
  
"Fine. The third step down from the entrance."  
  
"You got it."  
  
Reluctant, but confident that he was representing his country, Rodney hocked up a huge load of phlegm, and let it fly. Compelled by gravity the spit fell past every obstacle in its way, remaining on its course for the third-splat!  
  
"What in the hell!"  
  
"Oh crap!" John and Aiden both yelled.  
  
"Lets get out of here before she comes back up here," Teyla said.  
  
"Good idea," Rodney agreed.  
  
The foursome bolted away from the rail and went in separate directions. Meanwhile down below, Doctor Weir growled in fury as she used a handkerchief to wipe the spit from her hair.  
  
"Someone's gonna pay for this..." she promised. 


End file.
